Smokeheads (11 page)

Adam only realised it was a frozen loch when he slipped and landed on his arse. They were running on ice. Roddy let out a derisive snort somewhere behind him.

‘Come on, clumsy-arse,’ Roddy said, jogging past him.

Adam looked back. Joe was tripping and sliding down the hill in a flurry of snow, the flare held high, casting a surreal indigo sheen over the land like some strange alien visitation.

Molly was up ahead, running at the thousands of dark shapes scattered across the middle of the ice. As she got closer, she began waving her arms frantically over her head, whooping and shrieking for all she was worth.

‘What the hell is she doing?’ said Adam.

‘Fuck knows.’

They hurried forward, gaining on her, and just as they were getting close, the dark shapes began moving, rising up into the sky above, then suddenly they were all around them in a cacophony of hooting and hissing and flapping.

‘Fucking geese!’ shouted Roddy.

They covered their heads as they sprinted on, thousands of newly woken geese causing chaos in the air and on the ground. The birds were swooping and swerving, soaring and diving over and beyond them as they caught up with Molly and joined her in scaring more birds into the already crowded air.

Adam looked back and couldn’t see Joe amongst all the mayhem. If they couldn’t see Joe, Joe couldn’t see them, right? Under the cover of the geese’s frenzied activity, Molly shouted to them.

‘That way.’ She pointed to their left. ‘I’m pretty sure the farmhouse is just beyond that ridge.’

They started into a crouching run, occasionally ducking as a bird got close with its beak or wings, Adam glancing round to see where Joe was. The purple light was in the centre of the loch now, surrounded by thousands of squawking geese, angry at being woken up. They were making hysterical shapes in the sky, racing panic-stricken up and down, skidding on the ice and stumbling over each other. Adam ran faster, spurred on by the sight of Joe stuck in the chaos.

Near the edge of the loch, Adam felt the ice give way underneath him. An almighty creak, then the ice split in two, white sliced by spreading black, and Adam found himself running on nothing for an instant before slumping into freezing water, the chill of it shocking the breath out of his body as he scrambled and clawed at shifting chunks of ice for purchase.

Molly and Roddy had already disappeared into the darkness ahead. They hadn’t seen him go through the ice. His head ducked under the surface. The cold of the water stung his face like pins. He thrashed his arms and legs and his head bobbed above the surface for a moment, but his lungs refused to work, and he sank back under, getting a mouthful of icy water as he went.

It felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest, his ears full of raging noise as his arms and legs flailed again. His body shook with cold, he was losing feeling in his hands and feet. He made a supreme effort to get his head above water. Through the water streaming down his face he thought he saw a hand and made a lunge for it, missing as his body bobbed and pitched. He was sucked under again, panicking. He made a final, huge effort to push himself upwards, legs and arms aching. He scrabbled frantically for the hand. Just as he was sinking again, he felt his hand clutched by grasping fingers and held on for his life.

He felt the hand move, pulling him up and out of the water. As he scrambled forward he saw it was Molly holding him, grim determination on her face as she lay on the ice. Roddy lay behind her, holding her legs with his good arm.

Adam felt solid ice under his chest now and kicked his legs, squirming violently, flapping his way out of the water. He felt his waist snag on a jagged crust of ice and wriggled free, swinging a leg over onto more solid stuff. His other leg followed and he lay for a moment gasping and coughing, his body shaking violently from the cold, shock and adrenalin.

Molly shuffled backwards across the ice on hands and knees like a commando, dragging him as she went. He tried to get onto his feet.

‘No, stay flat out,’ she said. ‘Spread your weight.’

He moved with her for thirty yards then they rose to their knees, then their feet, Roddy joining them. They were at the edge of the loch now, running through frozen reeds which whipped and cut them as they tumbled forwards.

Adam glanced behind. The light from the flare was fading, but in the violet gloom it looked as if the geese had settled again, only a few still flying, the rest back on the ice honking unhappily. As he watched there was another blinding flash of purple light – a new flare. Shit, Joe probably had a whole belt full of the fucking things. This was never going to end, was it?

‘Do you think he knows which way we went?’ Adam said, breathless and shivering.

‘What, you mean apart from the tracks in the snow and the big fucking hole you left in the ice?’ said Roddy.

‘There.’

Molly pointed. The blanket of cloud overhead had broken into clumsy chunks of grey, moonlight coming and going, illuminating a dark geometric shape against the snowy curves of the land. The farmhouse. No lights on, but then it was the middle of the night. Adam looked at his broken watch without thinking, and saw that his hands were shaking. He tried to stop them.

‘Is that your teeth chattering?’ said Roddy.

Only now that he mentioned it did Adam realise it was. He felt convulsions jerking into life across his body.

Molly’s face was pinched with concern. ‘We need to get you out of those clothes.’

She looked back the way they’d come. No purple flare, no sign of Joe. Everything seemed deathly quiet after the madness of the geese on the ice. She turned to look at the farmhouse.

‘Hopefully we’ll be able to get dry clothes at the house.’

They reached the front gate in a few minutes, staggering up the path, banging on the door and shouting.

‘Hello? Anyone there? We need help.’

There were no vehicles visible, no lights on, no signs of life.

Roddy kept banging on the door with his good hand as Molly went round the back. Adam watched the way they’d come for any sign of Joe, but was unable to concentrate, his body feeling like electric currents were being passed through it, jerking and locking, his muscles burning, his lungs suddenly shallow.

‘Fucking hell,’ said Roddy. ‘There’s no cunt here.’

They heard glass smash from the other side of the house.

‘Molly?’ said Adam, stuttering the word out.

They stood there listening, not knowing what to do. A minute later the door opened and Molly stood there shaking her head.

‘Nobody home. Doesn’t look like it’s been occupied for the winter. The phone line’s dead as well. Either they didn’t pay the bill or the snow’s taken the lines down.’

‘Bollocks,’ said Roddy.

Molly guided the shivering Adam through the door into the hall, Roddy following behind, shaking his head. Molly turned to him, pointing at Adam.

‘Help him get his clothes off.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘All of them?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘He’s going to die otherwise.’

She looked around, began opening doors, found a linen closet. She pulled out two large towels and handed them to Roddy.

‘Then dry him off.’

‘No fucking way.’

Molly rolled her eyes upwards. ‘Just do it.’

‘You do it, I’m not touching his naked body.’

‘You’re pathetic,’ said Molly. ‘You really are.’

‘J-J-Just n-do it,’ said Adam, fumbling at his sleeve with trembling fingers.

Molly was already down the corridor. ‘I’ll find some new clothes for him.’

Roddy sighed and approached Adam, moving his shaking fingers aside. ‘Out the way, you handless fuck, let me do it.’

It was slow going with one good arm, peeling off the frozen clothes and dumping them on the ground. Roddy grimaced as he rubbed Adam’s arms, legs and torso with one towel, Adam trying to dry himself with the other one. By the time they’d finished his shaking had eased off, just little tremors rippling through his jaw and chest. Adam wrapped both towels around him and stared at his pale, exposed legs.

‘Looking good,’ said Roddy, as Molly appeared with an armful of clothes.

‘Shut up, Roddy,’ said Molly as she started helping him on with jeans, socks, shoes, T-shirt, two jumpers and a fleece. Everything was a bit big for him, but not too bad. When they’d finished, Adam picked up the torch he’d placed on the ground and put it in the fleece pocket.

‘You look ridiculous,’ said Roddy.

‘You’re not helping,’ said Molly. ‘I’m trying to keep him alive and get us out of this shit.’

Roddy looked at her. ‘So you should, it’s your ex-husband who’s trying to fucking kill us.’

Molly stared at him. ‘You think I don’t know that?’

‘Didn’t you have any inkling he was a psychopath when you said “I do”?’

‘Shut up, Roddy,’ said Adam.

Molly had her hands on her hips. ‘So you’re saying it’s my fault Joe’s after us?’

‘Who else’s fault is it?’ said Roddy.

‘That’s bullshit,’ said Adam. ‘With or without Molly, he wouldn’t have let us go once we’d seen the still operation.’

‘We don’t know that,’ said Roddy.

Adam lunged at Roddy’s injured shoulder.

‘Ow, fucking hell,’ said Roddy, buckling.

‘Take it easy, Adam,’ said Molly.

Adam turned to her. ‘You’ve got nothing to feel bad about. Jesus, you’ve already saved our lives at least twice.’

Silence for a moment, a strip of silky moonlight stretching across the hall from the open doorway.

‘You all right?’ Molly said to Roddy.

Roddy glared at the pair of them and let out a laugh more like a gasp. ‘You mean apart from the large wound and heavy blood loss?’ He coughed a dirty, ragged cough. ‘And this cunt attacking me? Fine, thanks.’

‘Sorry,’ said Adam. ‘But you were out of order.’

‘Fuck you.’

In the moonlight Adam could see Roddy was sweating heavily. He looked like a ghost.

‘So what do we do now?’ said Adam, his shivers receding further.

‘Are you OK?’ said Molly.

Adam nodded. ‘Feeling a lot better now, thanks for that.’

Roddy snorted. ‘When you’re quite finished sticking your tongue up her ass, can someone please tell me what we’re going to do now?’

‘You’re going to die.’

The voice from the doorway made them all jump.

Joe was silhouetted against the moonlight, pistol in hand. He was sweating and breathless, but smiling widely.

‘Fuck,’ said Roddy.

Joe laughed. ‘Thought you had me with that goose thing, eh? Hey, I just realised, that was literally a wild goose chase, wasn’t it?’

They stood motionless. Adam had his hands in his fleece pockets, his fingers gripping the handle of the torch. Joe was still getting his breath back, so Adam took a chance. He jerked the torch out of his pocket, switching it on in the process, and hurled it at Joe’s head, the beam of light slicing through the air as it span. Joe ducked instinctively as the torch came towards him, giving them a moment of distraction.

‘Move!’ Adam shouted, pushing Roddy and Molly down the corridor and heading after them, Molly leading them frantically through to the kitchen then towards the back door.

Joe roared after them. Adam ducked as a bullet ripped past his head. He reached for a chair and hurled it behind him, saw it smash off Joe’s body as he came through the kitchen doorway, knocking him with a hard thump into a heavy stone worktop then onto the ground.

Adam was out the back door and sprinting across a field of sleeping sheep, Molly and Roddy stumbling and tripping ahead. They ran and ran, losing their footing but blundering on regardless, the sheep around them fluttering in a vague panic. They climbed over fences and ran through snowdrifts until the farmhouse was out of sight. Adam realised he was shaking with the effort as they slowed to a nervous walk.

The snowclouds above had vanished, the whole land bathed in moonlight. They kept walking. Adam glanced back, but saw only sheep. Joe must be coming after them, but where was he? He wouldn’t give up now, no way.

The field they were in was adjacent to a clifftop, and the moonlit sea far below was rippling quicksilver. They reached a large rock and stopped to get their breath back.

‘We can’t go on like this,’ said Roddy, gasping and shaking.

‘I know what you mean,’ said Adam, unable to control his convulsing body. He felt like he might pass out any second. He leaned against the rock as if it was the softest bed in the world.

Molly nodded.

‘We need to confront him,’ she said. ‘Set a trap.’

‘Shit,’ said Adam, feeling dizzy. ‘Really?’

Roddy spat and snorted. ‘She’s right. We need to end this.’

Adam looked at the two of them. ‘Anyone got any ideas?’

Molly nodded. ‘I think so.’ She pushed herself up from the rock. ‘Come on, follow me.’

‘I’m scared to ask,’ said Adam. ‘But where?’

‘Back to the still. There’s stuff there we can use, maybe. Either way, it ends there.’

Molly started walking. Adam looked at Roddy, who just shrugged.

‘Right,’ said Adam, as he and Roddy scurried after her in the powdery snow.

They stood at the edge of a high cliff on the protruding headland and looked down. They could see the still below, the watery moonlight giving it a sharp, spectral appearance. Adam noticed a thin wisp of smoke or steam coming from the building and wondered how much fire damage there was.

They’d walked as fast as possible across the snow-crumpled fields and moors of the headlands, a jittery spring in their steps at the thought of what was to come. There was no sign of Joe following behind. Adam didn’t know how this would pan out, but they couldn’t keep running forever, and besides, they had nowhere else to go.

A gunshot cracked the silence. Hitting the ground fast, they shuffled to look behind to where the noise came from.

Far away in the distance a torch beam was flashing on and off.

They lay in silence for a moment.

‘The cunt’s playing with us,’ said Roddy. ‘Like he’s stalking prey. Just letting us know he’s still on our trail.’

He was too far away to have realistically taken a shot at them; it was a warning.

‘What a prick,’ said Adam.

‘Took the words right out of my mouth,’ said Molly, getting up and turning. ‘Come on, let’s get down there and get ready. As ready as we can be, anyway.’

There was a steep path cut into a cleft in the cliff, and they carefully edged their way down it in the ice and snow, wary that one slip could send them tumbling hundreds of feet onto rocks.

Roddy grunted and groaned as they went, stopping often to rest and snort coke, much to the other two’s disgust. They were all sweating from the exertion. Adam was thankful for his umpteen layers of dry clothes, but the freezing air still bit at him, his hands and feet numb. He wondered again what frostbite felt like. He’d seen Arctic explorers on television with blackened stumps at the ends of their wrists and ankles. Jesus wept.

They reached the bottom and scuttled across flat terrain to the barn in a whiteout silence.

Molly carefully pushed the door open. The electric light inside was momentarily blinding after so long in thin moonlight.

As his eyes got accustomed, Adam saw the same scene of carnage they’d left a while ago. One of the stills ripped open, charred metal and wood around it, gallons of spirit pooled on the floor alongside. Grant’s body was burnt-out black, lying in a spread of fire-extinguisher foam. The barbecue smell of cooked meat made Adam gag as he reached to cover his nose and mouth. Across the room, Luke was slumped sideways against the hogshead cask in a circle of dark red.

Adam went over to him and knelt down. One side of his head was caved in, thanks to Joe and the clawhammer, the eye socket raw and bloody, but the rest of his face had the same implacable look he had when he was alive. Adam reached out and touched his cheek, then recoiled at the rubbery feel of the flesh, already cooling, thickening and hardening. It was unbearable. First Ethan, now Luke, it was all so fucking horrific. If he hadn’t dragged them on this ridiculous trip, they’d all be safe back in the Leith tasting rooms now, winding each other up and necking a rare Caol Ila or a fresh new Ardbeg first-fill cask.

The thought of whisky made him turn. The petrol canister that Joe and Grant had been drinking from was on the floor. He opened it and took a sniff. Raw, obviously, but he wiped the rim and took a sip, sloshing it around his mouth. Fuck. They weren’t just making gut-rot here, this stuff was actually drinkable, notes of salty sea breeze and pine nuts amongst coal smoke rather than peat. He’d tasted worse, put it that way. A lot worse.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ said Roddy. ‘Are you tasting those cunts’ moonshine?’

Adam looked guilty as Roddy grabbed the canister and took a big glug.

‘Shit, that’s halfway decent.’

‘I know.’

‘When you boys are quite finished,’ said Molly, at the table now, ‘maybe you could help me look for something useful.’

‘Like what?’

‘How the hell should I know? Something that’ll help us get out of this nightmare. Use your imaginations. I’ve never been hunted down by a maniac before, strangely enough.’

Roddy took another big drink then winced. The colour drained from his face. His shoulder had to be hurting.

Molly raked over the junk on the table. ‘This is all just crap,’ she said. ‘Nothing much we can use here.’

Roddy was resting against the back of a chair, trying to get his energy back, canister in hand.

‘Shouldn’t we have a lookout at the door?’ said Adam.

Roddy shook his head. ‘You saw how far behind he was, we’ve got ages yet.’

‘Just go over and watch out for him, Roddy, eh?’

‘You fucking do it, if it’s such a great idea.’

Adam sighed. He searched round the back of the still and found something.

‘Look.’

He brought out a large, beaten-up toolbox and dumped it on the table. The metal handles were sore against his fingers, but that meant the feeling was coming back into his hands. The heat in here was thawing him again.

He opened the toolbox. It was rammed with all sorts of stuff, wrenches and spanners, a crowbar, screwdrivers and hammers. They started sizing up weapons in their hands as Adam lifted the top section out. Underneath were a handheld power drill and a blowtorch.

‘Now we’re talking,’ said Roddy, lifting the drill out. He pointed it at Adam, pulled the trigger and the room filled with a high-pitched whiny whir.

‘Cut it out,’ said Adam, taking out the blowtorch. He turned it in his hands, getting a feel for it. It was quite flashy, like a modern hairdryer or something. He found the gas valve and turned it, then clicked the ignition and a jet of blue flame shot out the nozzle towards Roddy.

‘Easy, Tiger,’ said Roddy, backing away.

Molly took two aerosols out of the bottom of the toolbox and displayed them – one pesticide, one anti-freeze.

‘What do you reckon these are for?’

Adam looked at the moonshine canister and sucked on the chemical aftertaste in his mouth. ‘Hmmm.’

She chucked them back into the box and surveyed what they had.

‘This is all good, but we don’t have anything to match a gun.’

Adam switched the blowtorch off. Roddy whirred the power drill in the air.

‘We’ll just have to use the element of surprise.’

‘How exactly do we do that?’ said Adam. ‘He knows we’re here.’

‘I have no idea,’ said Roddy. ‘It’s just the kind of thing people say in situations like this.’

Molly sighed.

‘Well, he’ll be here soon enough, so we’d better think of something quick.’

‘Too late,’ said Joe, grinning at the barn door and pointing a gun at them.

Their faces crumpled.

‘I told you we should’ve had a bloody lookout,’ Adam said to Roddy.

‘Fuck you,’ said Roddy.

‘You should’ve listened to your bumchum,’ said Joe. ‘He was right for once.’